Artwork by Nigel Maynard. Photo: All images © Nigel Maynard.

Nigel Maynard discusses the similarities between Quakerism and photography

Waiting on the Light

Nigel Maynard discusses the similarities between Quakerism and photography

by Nigel Maynard 4th January 2019

All photographers who use natural light, as I do, have to wait upon this source, and also upon particular qualities of light to determine the outcome of the picture. Light is the primary agency, forming colours and tones, composition and shadows, and also mood. The pictures record how the light was, and its interaction with what it encountered, which is perhaps only a step away from Quaker spirituality. And, though all images taken are inspired by this coming together, only a small number will be regarded as worthy of the wait.

Light is the essential raw material of photography. Part of the attraction of it is that it comes and goes; that it can suddenly appear and illuminate, say, a stand of trees in autumn leaf, or a patch of calm sea two miles offshore – picked out by a spotlight of sun through a gap in the clouds; or, as in my current practice of abstract work, that it can interact with colours and materials.

These moments can be the most inspiring. Maybe part of the allure is the sense that they are rare, and it is not known how long they will last. The light may be temporarily showing itself, for a mere moment that will be unique and soon fade.

The source of natural light, the sun, is never still; and thus the orientation of the illumination is slowly, subtly altering, all the time. This orientation to the subject is vital to the outcome of the picture. Thus, light is a part of an ever-shifting world and can transform the observation of a static object from hour to hour and day to day, and rarely re-draws in any exactitude a former state of illumination.

I have drifted away from photographing the outside world and nowadays work in an indoor environment. I still use natural light, so am still dependent on its vagaries. Indoors, I am governed by the windows of the studio I work in – the aperture through which light is allowed to enter a place. This determines the images I can make, unless I chose to use artificial light. I am aware, though, of the symbolic differences and discordances between the two worlds of natural and artificial light.

In choosing natural light, one does have to wait. One can’t reach up and part the clouds, or demand that the dawn arrives earlier than it has planned. When light worth documenting does come, there is a feeling of celebration and thrill, and in a photograph this can be recorded and kept. The photograph is a document of a time that one has not controlled, nor brought about on one’s own. What one has done is respond to its arrival.

I work in a studio constructing images, which means that I have taken a certain degree of control, but still I have to defer to the luminosity offered by nature: the angle it arrives, the comings and goings of the illumination. If I need actual sunlight and not just diffused light behind clouds, the wait can be a lengthy one.

I may liken a Quaker Meeting for Worship to the space when one makes art or photographs: it is a setting aside from the rest of reality; a retreat from the outward promptings of the world; a sanctuary, a place of emptying, to allow in other things than the worldly.

Although one doesn’t go to a Meeting for Worship with a camera, a paintbrush or sketchbook, one could be said to be entering a liminal place in both cases – worship and art-making. It is a space in which, by waiting, one may allow something to happen; something surprising.

With photography, this is always the case, even if these surprises are subtle and noticeable only in small degrees. For there is the moment with film when the effects of the light are developed, and with a sensor in a digital camera, when the image emerges on a screen – when the unexpected effects of light show themselves. The precise effects of the light when it enters the black box of the camera and encounters the medium – the film or sensor – are not possible to guess at beforehand.

It is one of the wonders of photography that the outcome of the whole process of light and receptacle is always unpredictable.


Comments


Interesting article
. I like your pictures.
http://nigelmaynard.weebly.com

By p.nicholas760@btinternet.com on 4th January 2019 - 10:45


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